The Billionaire's Desire (A Billionaire BWWM Steamy Romance) (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Carter

Money
can't buy love, happiness or peace. But it can buy groceries.

My text
message alert goes off again.

"I'm
not sure :( ." Cammy's use of emoticons drives me crazy.

"Well
can you check? Maybe it's in the contract you signed?"

There
is a pause and I sit back in my office chair, tapping my pen impatiently. When
Cammy texts me back, I grab the phone, my fingers poised to type. "Here it
is! :) :) :) 561 Grange St. Apt 6F."

"Do
you have a ZIP?"

"No
:( . "

 
I growl a little. "Never mind, I can
look it up." I open another tab on the browser window and navigate to Google
maps. The little arrow plunks down right in the heart of the city and my heart
does this weird palpitation

"Okay,
I'm good, thanks sis."

"Go
get 'em tiger. ;) ."

Shaking
my head, I set the phone back down and click the order button. Then I choose
the time window and pay for the order.

Four
PM. I need to be there at four PM.

Standing
up from my desk, I stretch a little, rolling my neck from side to side and
hearing the pops and twinges. I'm too keyed up. I need to work out if I'm going
to have a prayer of making it to the mainland without having a breakdown.

There
is a light mist falling, seemingly centered just over Annika Island, but it
feels good against my face as I push myself to do wind sprints in the sand.
When my heart is ready to burst and my legs are twitchy and weak, I am ready.

Turning
to face the mainland, I clear my head, counting backwards from ten and mentally
relaxing each muscle. "I am ready," I remind myself.

Time to
go.

Chapter Thirty

Sanniyah

They
moved him to a bigger hospital room. I am pleased to see that much.

My
mother is in the straight-backed chair, head leaning slightly backwards, hands
clasped, her lips parted a little. She looks like she is asleep, but I know she
is praying.

When I
walk into the room, her eyes flutter open and a bare smile flickers across her
face. "Hey baby."

"Hey
mama," I say, bending to kiss her cheek before holding out the cardboard
tray. "I brought you a latte."

She
smiles wider and reaches eagerly. Her rise from abject poverty has marked my
mother in a lot of ways, but one of the strangest is her lasting devotion to
fancy coffees. I used to jokingly ask that if it came down to a choice between Starbucks,
and me, what would she do?

"You
don't want to tempt me on that," she would say, fixing me with a glare
over her white and green cup.

She
cups her hand greedily around the latte and inhales. "How'd you know I
needed this?" she sighs tiredly.

"Daughterly
intuition," I reply, leaning against the clacking radiator. "How is
he?"

"They're
keeping him sedated. Something about letting his brain rest," my mother
sighs, leaning back.

"You
should go home mama, get some rest."

She
shakes her head vehemently. "I'm not about to have him wake up alone in a
hospital. Mmmph, Lord, he won't have any idea what happened or why he's
here." She reaches out and strokes the top of his hand, gingerly avoiding
the IV line that snakes out of a mass of tape and tubes. "No, my place is
right here," she says softly, looking at him with such love that my heart
hurts.

I feel
the avalanche of words coming. I need to
do
something. "I'll sit with him a bit, mama. You go stretch you legs. Have
you eaten? Do you want me to go to your place, bring you a change of clothes?
How about Otis, you think he might wake up and want something comfy from home?
I can grab his robe for you, bring you some stuff."

Mama
turns with a strange look. "There you go again," she says, freezing
me with one stare.

"What?"

"Stop
tryin' to figure what's next, Sanniyah. Does you no good to worry yourself to
death."

I
straighten up. "I'm not worrying mama, I'm trying to plan for you."

My
mother's glare should have burned me to ashes. "Listen to me really
carefully Sanniyah Rose. I...don't...want...your...plans. Do you hear me? You
can't set out a timetable and delegate responsibility and all of that other
stuff you love to do. Not right now. Right now we live, moment by moment, and
we spent time with Otis. That..." she bares her teeth at me,
"is...it."

Her
tirade has sent me backing into a corner. When my hand brushes against the
wall, I have to fling it out to steady myself. "I was just trying to
help," I whisper. She stares at me, not forgiving me, but not dismissing
me either. "I want to do something, mama," I plead.

She
shakes her head sadly. "It's in God's hands now, honey," she says
softly. "We can't control this, okay?" She opens her arms and I go to
her, a child needing her mother, and we cry.

The
tears are wholesome and clean, and I feel myself strangely renewed for having
shed them. I look up at my mom, who is brushing my hair back with a look of
pride. "I don't think I've seen you let yourself cry like that since you
were a child," she says, in a tone of wonder. "You always make me
feel bad for being the emotional one."

I laugh
and wipe away the tears with the back of my hand. "I think I've cried
enough in the past twenty-four hours to make up for lost opportunities."

My
mother grips my shoulders. "It's okay to cry. This is sad. You don't have
to do anything else than that, you got it baby girl?"

"Yeah,
I think I do, mama."

My
mother nods, her point made. She leans back in her chair and sips the coffee I
brought her. We sit in silence for a moment. Crying has made my eyes tired and
puffy, and I find myself stifling a yawn.

"You
sleep last night?" my mother says sharply, without turning around.

There's
no use lying to her. "Not very well."

"Go
home and sleep, Sanniyah. Turn your ringer on and I'll call you if there is any
change."

I am
about to protest, that I need to be here with her, but the argument we just had
rings in my ears. Worrying is not planning. My fretful presence is only making
things worse for her. "Okay mama," I relent. "Call me if you
need something. I can still swing by and get your clothes."

"Sleep
first. Those bags are going to swallow your eyes whole."

I laugh
ruefully. "Gee thanks, mama."

She
pulls me down to her level and presses her lips to my cheek. "You're a
good girl. The best girl, really. You make me proud every single day."

"Mama,
I'm going to start crying again," I tell her stiffly as I pull away.

She
shakes her head. "Go home, honey."

Once I
settle into the back seat of the cab, I lean my head back, trying to ignore how
I am smashing my hair, and close my eyes. I am deliriously tired, to the point
of feeling like I'm floating.

I must
have actually fallen asleep, because the cabbie shakes me awake in front of my
building. I startle and wipe the drool from the corner of my chin. "Thank
you," I blush and flee from the back seat as if I could leave my
embarrassment there. The elevator ride up to the sixth floor seems like an
eternity as my head slumps down to my chest.

But
when the doors ding open in front of my door, I snap awake and am instantly on
high alert.

It is
standing slightly ajar.

Heart
pounding, I reach into my purse for my keys, the only weapon I have. I close
them into my fist like they taught in self defense class and wield my purse in
my left hand like a club. "Who's there?" I shout, as menacingly as I
can muster.

"Sanniyah?"

My body
knows it's him before my mind can understand. "How the hell did you get
into my apartment?!" I demand.

"Erm,
that was me." Tricia is behind me, her excitement clearly showing in her
incessant movement. "I used the key you gave me. I like him, Yahya,"
she winks. "And your refrigerator was a sad, sorry state of affairs."

Carter
Easton is standing in the middle of my apartment, making everything around him
look shabby and worn in comparison. He smiles nervously, and gestures to the
open, stocked cupboards. "Hello Sanniyah," he says. "Dinner will
be ready in a half an hour."

Chapter Thirty-One

Carter

She
looks exhausted. I want to go to her, sit her down and fold her into my arms,
letting her fall asleep on my chest as I brush those worry lines off of her
forehead. Instead, I clumsily wield a spatula.

"I'm
really good at eggs, and not much else," I tell her. "So I hope you
don't mind giving me a second chance to make breakfast for you."

Her
friend Tricia is gaping openly at me from over Sanniyah's shoulder, but when
she hears me say that, she turns red and bolts from the apartment without
saying goodbye. She is careful to close the door tightly behind her.

Sanniyah
is still blinking at me like she is trying to see an out of focus picture.
"You're here," she says at last.

"I
wanted to help you," I say simply.

She
finally takes in the kitchen. "You went grocery shopping for me?"

"Ah,
actually one of Tallarico's stockboys did your grocery shopping. I was just
here for the pick-up."

"And
now you're cooking me dinner?"

"Breakfast,"
I clarify. "Since you didn't take me up on my offer in my house, maybe
you'll let me cook for you in your house?"

I
expect her smile, laugh, or maybe even slap me and tell me to get the hell out.
What I don't expect is for her to apologize.

"Carter...,"
she exhales, sinking to the couch like she's melting. "I'm sorry. I
flipped out on you for no good reason. Would it make it up to you if I told you
I'm trying to get over my neuroses?"

I go to
her and swiftly take her hand. She leans her head on my shoulder and my heart
catches in my chest. Sitting next to her, just breathing, just like we did on
the log on the beach the first time we met. I let her go that night. Then, when
I came to my senses and got her back, I lost her again.

I
wasn't about to screw this up a third time.

I cup
my fingers under her chin. "I have some shit I'm trying to get over
too," I tell her.

She
nods a little and veils her eyes. "Camilla told me," she says.

For a
minute, I bristle at being talked about behind my back, but then I relax. Cammy
has my back, I know this. "The say no man is an island, but I seem to be
hell-bent on proving them wrong."

"Carter,
stop, don't make fun of yourself. We all have our own way of grieving."
The way she says those words makes it clear she's done some grieving of her
own.

I lean
back into the sofa and Sanniyah cuddles up into the crook of my arm. God, it
just feels so damn right, holding her like this. She fits against me like she's
the missing piece to my puzzle. It's been so damn long since I've held
someone...anyone. Since I've let anyone that wasn't my sister get this close to
me. The swelling in my chest is almost more than I can bear.

Then
she brushes her hand lightly up my thigh, and all at once I'm falling victim to
a different kind of swelling entirely.

I brush
my hand down her arm, her incredible caramel skin making my heart flop around
in my chest like a fish. She coos a little, a small sound, but it's enough.
Brushing my fingers back up her arm, I cup my hand around the back of her neck,
just holding
there
for a moment. It feels damn good to
hold her this way. It feels damn good to hold her...period.

She
leans her head back, pressing against my palm. I begin to massage the tight
muscles back there, kneading the curve from her shoulder up to where her
elegant neck meets her head.
 
She
closes her eyes and moans softly, and I feel her turn to jelly under my touch.
Her breathing quiets and deepens, and I am rewarded with the swell of her
breasts rising higher with each inhale.

I shift
sideways, brushing my other hand up her belly to rest gently against them. Her
eyelids flutter slightly, but she does not protest as I cup them gently,
stroking my thumb over the top of her T-shirt. I can feel her nipple hardening
under my touch and it is more than I can bear. "Sanniyah," I groan.

She
arches upward, urging me on. Emboldened, I stroke down and slip my fingers
underneath her shirt to caress the soft skin of her belly. "I need to see
you," I whisper, tugging it up over her head.

"Go
ahead and take a look," she smiles, opening her eyes and peering at me from
under the veil of her thick black lashes. "Tell me what you think."

The
lacy white perfection of her bra is like cream against her caramel skin.
"I think...you look good enough to eat."

She
snakes her hands behind my neck, lacing her fingers tightly together. "I'm
hungry too," she whispers, then pulls me to her.